


Whim

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Incest, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Punching, Rimming, Rough Body Play, Sap Gloves, kicking, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Klaus asks for a favor. Diego follows a whim.





	Whim

“Diego! My nicest, most understanding brother!”

“No,” said Diego, not looking up from the knife he was sharpening. 

Klaus deflated, still leaning against the door frame. “You haven’t even heard what I’m going to ask for,” he complained.

“You’re going to ask me for money,” said Diego. The sound of the knife being dragged along the stone was oddly hypnotic - it was lulling Klaus into a sort of calm. The desperate, manic energy that had been driving Klaus to distraction seemed to be settling itself. It wouldn’t last - nothing seemed to last, now that he was capital S-Sober - but it was a nice respite.

“I’m not going to ask you for drug money,” Klaus said, flopping onto Diego’s bed, his legs dangling off the edge. “Frankly, as an individual of sobriety, I’m insulted. Have you no faith?” 

“I have plenty of faith that you won’t go out and use,” said Diego. He’d finished with the knife, sheathed it, moved to the next one. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re _still_ always trying to mooch money off of someone, for yarn or paint or whatever other weird harebrained hobby you’ve picked up in order to keep the centipedes from eating your eyeballs.” 

“It was millipedes,” Klaus said, stung. “And I told you that in _confidence_. While high. Which makes it doubly confidential!”

“Klaus, you got up on the kitchen table and shouted that, while stripping naked and rubbing honey on your chest. I think the whole damn neighborhood heard that one.” Diego shot Klaus an amused look. “So you’re not here trying to borrow money?” Diego put down his sharpening stone, but held on to his knife, twisting it by the handle.

“I mean,” Klaus said, sitting up on his elbows, “I wouldn't say no to a little extra moolah.”

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Diego said, and he sounded genuinely disgusted.

“It’s not for a dumb hobby or anything like that,” Klaus said quickly, sitting up so fast he nearly hit his head on Diego’s windowsill. “I swear.” 

“So what, you need five bucks to get a box of Twinkies?” 

“Okay, first, Five would never allow Twinkies in this house,” said Klaus. “You _know_ how he feels about them.” 

Diego snorted.

“Secondly,” said Klaus, “in what world is a Twinkie five bucks?” 

“My body is a temple,” Diego told Klaus, and he thumped those stupid abs of his that he was so proud of. “I wouldn’t even _think_ of desecrating it with something like a Twinkie.” 

“You’re the worst,” said Klaus, scooting over, until his head was hanging over the edge of the bed and his heels were resting on the window.

“Because I won’t fund your garbage habits?” Diego cracked his knuckles, one after the other, and Klaus winced.

“You’re gonna give yourself arthritis by doing that,” said Klaus.

“That’s been disproven,” said Diego, “and you are the _last_ person I’ll take health advice from, Mister I-Wanna-Buy-Twinkies.”

“I don’t wanna buy Twinkies,” Klaus groaned. “I think you’ve got a Twinkie fixation. Anyway, since when would Twinkies be five bucks?” It came out in an irritated burst, and he was faintly surprised at that. His temper had been closer to the surface as well - he’d been a pretty mellow kid, all things considered, but that had apparently gone the way of the dodo. 

“So what do you want to get?” Diego picked the sharpening stone again, and went back to the familiar rough scraping. 

“Laid.”

“You are _not_ asking me for money to pay a hooker,” said Diego. His tone was disbelieving. “Even you are not that shameless.”

“Why does everyone think I’m shameless?” Klaus put a touch of whine into his voice, just for the look of the thing.

“Because you are,” Diego said.

“They prefer the term sex workers,” said Klaus, because he wasn’t going to argue about the whole “shameless” thing. He had shame. Just… not where people usually kept it.

“But you don’t deny that you’d want to pay one?” Diego was inspecting the blade of his knife, carefully. His finger traced over the edge; he probably wasn’t going to cut himself. Although it’d serve him right, the bastard.

“I don’t necessarily see anything wrong with paying someone else to help me work off some tension,” said Klaus, and he made a big show of rolling his shoulders, as if he was receiving a particularly good massage. It was a pretty tricky maneuver to perform when he was hanging upside down like this, but he was nothing if not dedicated to getting his point across.

“Since when do you need to pay for ass? I remember you sneaking people in all the time, when we were teenagers.” Diego was looking thoughtful now, and faintly disgusted. It was off putting, considering some of the bullshit that Diego himself got up to.

“Alas, I am no longer the lithe, gamine ingenue I was as a youth,” said Klaus, giving a little finger wiggle to indicate his slightly more aged form. “I can no longer get by on looks alone, as wonderful as my looks are. I also don’t know how to pick people up sober.”

Diego snorted. “It’s not that hard,” he told Klaus. “Go to a bar -” He stopped himself mid sentence. “Go to a party,” he amended. “Find someone cute, talk to them.”

“What parties are there these days, that don’t have all the fun stuff?” Klaus shook his head a little bit, and the room wobbled. 

“You can have fun stuff without drugs or drinking,” said Diego.

“And fun isn’t hard with your library card,” Klaus said, doing his best imitation of the cutesy kids shows Grace had put on for them when they were small enough to have a sustained attention span but not old enough to start really training in combat.

Diego flipped him the bird.

“But seriously,” said Klaus, “how do I know if they’re secretly an axe murderer -”

“Wouldn’t you see all the ghosts around them, if they’re an axe murderer?” Diego interrupted.

“I don’t see ghosts around you all the time, and you’ve killed a bunch of people,” Klaus pointed out.

“That’s different,” said Diego, and there was no arguing with that tone. 

“Well, okay, so not a murderer. But what if they’re just talking to me because I was in the Umbrella Academy, or because they just want to laugh at me, or because they’re bored and don’t actually like me? What if they’re not into the same stuff that I’m into?” Klaus bit his tongue, to stem the flow of anxious chatter that was trying to gush out of him, like someone turning a hose on.

Diego laughed. A full, obnoxious belly laugh, and he looked _obscenely_ pleased with himself. He actually put his stupid knives down, slapping his thighs as he rocked back and forth, clearly undone by mirth.

“What’s so funny?” Klaus sat up, the rush of blood from his head making him dizzy, and flopped back down onto the bed, his head on Diego’s pillow.

“You sound like some teenage virgin, not a guy in his thirties,” said Diego. “It’s easy to meet people. You don’t have to pay them.”

“Strictly speaking, I’m not paying any one person,” said Klaus. How to explain this to Diego, who was pretty sheltered, for all that he played the big bad vigilante?

“Is this like one of those champagne clubs?” Diego wrinkled his nose, and he looked unimpressed. “Because I’d think you’d be better than that.”

“... What?”

“You know, you get to drink champagne with a pretty girl, only it’s, like, three thousand dollars per glass,” said Diego. “You’re paying for the idea of getting to do stuff with someone, but you never actually _do_ it.”

“God no,” said Klaus. “It’s just a party at a club.”

“I thought you were staying sober,” said Diego. “Now I hear you’re going to clubs to meet hookers?”

Klaus groaned, scrubbing his face with both hands. “It’s a kink club,” he said, because subterfuge wasn’t a thing he’d ever had much skill with, especially in the face of Diego’s blunt force trauma approach to conversation. 

“What, like, whips and chains and shit like that?” Diego looked surprisingly scandalized.

“For a guy who goes around in a leather harness, you sure are easy to shock,” said Klaus.

“The leather is for protection,” Diego protested. 

“Versus kevlar,” Klaus countered.

“Kevlar isn’t flexible enough,” said Diego. “I need to be able to move. Leather is also cheaper.”

“Not if you’re using the good stuff,” Klaus muttered. He’d never really been one for kink parties, before - to many of them were pretty strict on the “play sober” rule, which took most of the fun out of it, as far as Klaus was concerned.

Admittedly, back when he wasn’t sober, he also hadn’t craved sensation to the slavering, desperate degree that he currently did; back alley blowjobs didn’t satisfy him the way they used to. But… still.

“So you want me to give you money so you can go to get tied up or beaten or… some shit like that?” Diego put his hands behind his head, his fingers in his hair. He was wearing a t-shirt instead of that godawful turtleneck, and Klaus could see Diego’s flat stomach. It looked firm enough for Klaus to stand on. This was all adding to the… twitchiness. Was it arousal? Nervous energy? The sheer hateful boredom of sobriety?

“That’s the long and the short of it, yes,” said Klaus.

“You are a sick fuck,” said Diego, but he sounded faintly impressed in spite of himself. 

“Hey, wouldn’t you rather I ask to borrow some money to go engage in consensual adult things with… consenting adults...” The sentence trailed off, but he gained momentum once again. “Instead of going off to get so high that I don’t even care whose dick I’m sucking?” 

“You could do neither,” said Diego. “You could stay home and... knit, or jerk off, or watch a movie, or a billion other things.”

“But I don’t _want_ to do a billion other things,” Klaus said, and he put a long, insolent whine at the end of the sentence, just to see the muscle in Diego’s jaw jump. “I want to go get beaten up by good looking people in leather!”

There was a pregnant pause, and it birthed a whole litter of equally awkward pauses.

“I mean,” Diego said. “You don’t have to leave the house for that.”

Another pregnant pause, while Klaus tried to wrap his head around what it was that Diego had just said.

“Are you offering me kinky sex stuff?” Klaus sat all the way up, gaping at Diego in disbelief.

“You put the sex in there,” Diego said sharply. “But if you wanna, y’know, get hit a few times, I can do it.”

“What if it’s more than a few times?” Klaus licked his lips, shifting on the bed. “Anyway, you’re not wearing any leather.” 

“I can put on leather,” Diego said in a long suffering voice.

“And you’re willing to beat me up?”

“I’d rather spend an hour smacking you around than have you disappear with my money,” Diego said, and Klaus couldn’t really argue with the logic of that.

“I’d give it back to you, y’know,” Klaus pointed out. “I’m not the junkie rifling through your sock drawer and stealing your allowance just to get high.”

“You’re gonna rifle through my sock drawer to steal my paycheck instead?” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be rifling through your sock drawer if you kept your stuff someplace more interesting,” said Klaus. “And I’d pay you back,” he added.

‘With what money?” 

“My inheritance, duh,” said Klaus.

“The same inheritance you apparently can’t get access to in order to not have to bug me about this in the first place? Which is also _my_ my inheritance, what with us having the same dad.” 

“... shut up with your logic,” groused Klaus. “Anyway, what makes you think it’ll be just an hour?” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to scandalize Diego.

“Go into the old wrestling training room,” said Diego, and he remained unscandalized, the bastard. He stretched, a long, sweet display of all those delicious muscles. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

“You’re seriously going to -”

“Klaus,” Diego said sharply. “I said I’d do it. I’m gonna do it.” 

“Right,” said Klaus, and his mouth went very dry. “Wait.”

“What is it now?” Diego sounded aggravated, and some perverse part of Klaus wanted to keep needling him.

“Do you know how to hit someone without, like, rupturing them?”

“We both took the same training,” said Diego. “If you can hit someone without rupturing them, so can I.”

“You’re assuming that I’ve hit people too?” Klaus raised an eyebrow.

“Klaus, you get bored too easily to ever do just one thing. You’ve totally beat someone up just to see what will happen, and since you’re not in jail, I assume you didn’t rupture anything in them,” said Diego. Klaus was impressed in spite of himself. His brother had him pegged - almost as good as that one person with the rainbow strap on.

“Well,” said Klaus. “Still.”

“Listen,” said Diego. “Hitting someone so that you _do_ rupture them means that you know how to hit them otherwise.” He gave Klaus a slow smile, and Klaus’s stomach did another odd little jump.

Klaus wanted to make a joke - make some ribald joke about how “please be gentle, it’s my first time” or some shit like that, except… well, first, Diego might take it seriously. Klaus wasn’t in the mood for some gentle spanking. He wanted an actual _beating_ , and when was the last time he’d gotten one of those? Second, how ribald could he be, at a time like this? He couldn’t exactly poke Diego to see what kind of reaction he’d get, considering that he was already about to get... who even knew what... from his brother. 

“Don’t worry,” Diego said, possibly catching Klaus’s thoughtful expression and thinking it was anxiety.

“I can’t help but worry,” said Klaus. “I’m sober now. Sobriety is just being bored and worrying.” 

“I’m sober all the time, and I’m not worrying,” Diego pointed out.

“Being sober isn’t the same as not drinking,” Klaus corrected. “Not drinking is just not doing something. Being sober is… pointedly not doing it.”

“I think you’re splitting hairs,” said Diego.

Klaus made a dismissive hand gesture. 

Diego rolled his eyes. “Go meet me downstairs,” he told Klaus. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?” Klaus’s stomach was knotting up in new, interesting ways.

“Nope,” Diego said cheerfully. 

“That’s it? Just _nope_?!” 

“Yep.” Diego looked too damn smug for his own good, the bastard.

“Fine,” said Klaus. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“You do that,” said Diego, and he was getting on his knees now, rummaging through the foot locker he had next to his bed, wearing a thoughtful expression.

* * *

Klaus made his way downstairs, and he wondered if he should have taken the condoms and lube out of the pockets of his coat. It probably sent the wrong message, if Diego ended up going through his pockets for some reason. Although then again, what would be the right message? What _was_ this? Kinky incestuous therapy? Some kind of brotherly bonding ritual?

Klaus stood in the middle of the training room of his youth, awkward as he had been as a gawky adolescent. More awkward, truth be told - he didn’t remember how to move his body right, now that he was sober. It was as if half of his muscle memory had been smoked or swallowed or injected, leaving him stuck in this shambling… shell. It was big and lanky and it didn’t do what he wanted half the time, and now he was just _aware_ of it. 

It had been easier, when he still used. Sure, most of that had been largely unpleasant, but the bits of it that had been pleasant… well, they had been pretty fuckin’ pleasant. He missed it like a missing limb, even though realistically it had been more like a parasitic twin, leeching the life out of him.

But what a twin it had been!

“You’re too in your head,” said Diego from the doorway.

“And here I thought you didn’t think I had anything going on in my head to begin with,” said Klaus.

Diego snorted, walking in slowly. He was wearing boots again, and they were loud on the floor, until he was walking on the training mats. Dad would have had a cow - he hated shoes on the training mats. It may be why Diego was doing it in the first place. Klaus was barefoot, but he was usually barefoot at home. 

“I was promised leather,” Klaus said, looking Diego up and down. “I don’t see any leather.” He _did_ see a whole lot of arm on display, though - ye gods, but Diego was built. 

“I’m not putting on my harness just to beat you up,” said Diego. “Anyway, I’m not using any knives on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Klaus. “Ruin all of my fun, why don’t you.”

“I’m the worst,” said Diego. “I’m not going to let you have any fun. I’m not going to do the thing that you were bugging me to do.” 

“Diego,” Klaus whined. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Diego sounded genuinely interested as he asked it.

“You went on a whole thing about eight weeks of bliss when I broke my jaw, and now you’re asking me that?” Klaus crossed his arms over his chest, Was he underdressed? Overdressed? He was still wearing his furry coat and his lace up leather pants, a tank top printed with koi.

Diego shrugged. “C’mon,” he said, and he rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get this party started.” 

“You seem weirdly into this,” said Klaus, as he shrugged out of his coat, draping it over a nearby vaulting horse. 

“It’s some variety,” said Diego. “Shit has been quiet around here. I got so bored the other day I apprehended some dude for littering.”

“Well, it _is_ bad for the environment,” said Klaus.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Diego stretched, his hands over his head. He was wearing a different pair of gloves as well - they had no fingers, and patches sewn over the knuckles.

“It’d think you’d be the one who’d be all hesitant about this,” said Klaus. “No offense, but you give off a very… repressed vibe.”

“I’ve done stuff,” said Diego, and he sounded faintly defensive. His hand was on the back of Klaus’s neck now, and he was squeezing gently. “Probably not the same bullshit that you’ve done, but I’ve done some stuff.”

“Letting your girlfriend stick her finger in your butt while you’re getting a blowjob does not a kinky experience make,” said Klaus. 

Diego snorted, and he pushed Klaus forward, towards the wall. “I know you think you’re so much better than the rest of us,” he told Klaus.

“Do I look like Five?” Klaus demanded, as he was pushed into the wall. 

“If you looked liked Five, I wouldn’t be doing this,” said Diego. His hands was moving up Klaus’s back, tangling in the hair on the back of Klaus’s head, forcing Klaus’s head back, Klaus’s neck arched.

Klaus snorted, too lost in the sensation to really come up with a witty response. 

“Allison and Luther have been pretty, uh, busy,” Diego said, and that seemed to come out of nowhere. Diego was still breathing on Klaus’s ear, and Klaus was shivering, just a bit.

“And by busy you mean -”

“Goin’ at it like rabbits,” said Diego.

Klaus folded his arms up, pressing them into the wall in front of him, and then Diego was pressing his face forward, his forehead into his forearms. Diego’s hand left the back of Klaus’s head, and then Klaus heard the telltale pops and clicks of Diego cracking his knuckles, muffled by the thick gloves.

“Well, at least _someone_ in this family is getting some,” said Klaus, lacking anything else. His stomach was a mess of anxious anticipation, and he wasn’t sure what came from what.

“Two someone’s, technically,” said Diego, then; “would you ever?”

“Would I ever what?” Klaus was losing the thread, lost in the sweet fog of anticipation. He wasn’t even sure what he was anticipating - he’d never been beaten by Diego for fun. He’d seen Diego fighting the criminal underworld, but that felt… different. He was painfully aware of the warmth of Diego’s body, so close to Klaus’s own. He was shaking, which was unexpected.

The last time he’d gotten a good beating, he’d gone to a kink club, and the lady who’d done it had gone into a whole negotiation beforehand, down to asking him what kind of blanket he wanted to be wrapped in as aftercare. Diego… didn’t seem concerned about that. Didn’t seem concerned with much of anything, come to think of it.

There was something weirdly comforting about that.

“Fuck one of us,” said Diego. One of his hands was resting on the back of Klaus’s neck again, and it was weirdly heavy.

“I mean,” Klaus said.

“You mean,” Diego echoed. There was… something interesting about the tone of Diego’s voice, and if Klaus could get his mind to focus on it, he might have been able to figure out what it was. But all he could focus on was the heat where their bodies were touching, the tenderness of those points of contact.

“I guess I’d have to see how I felt,” Klaus said, and he shifted, widening his stance to keep his balance. “I’m surprised you don’t want to fight me. I’d think that hitting a stationary target would feel unsportsmanlike to you.”

“I’m just thinking of you as an obnoxiously chatty punching bag right now,” said Diego, and he took a step back. Klaus missed the warmth of him almost immediately.

“I’m - oof!”

The air was knocked out of Klaus, as Diego’s fist connected with the meaty part of his shoulder. He groaned, and Diego made a noise that was probably accompanied by a smirk, and landed another punch, on the other side.

Klaus groaned, and he pressed his face into his own arms. Diego was beginning to hit him in a rhythm, hit after hit after hit, until Klaus’s belly was pressed into the wall, the brick cold against his stomach where his tank top had started to ride up. It was a little hard to breathe, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about _anything_. The blows were like blasts of music, reverberating through his whole body, blow after blow landing and leaving him light headed. The pain throbbed to the beat of his heart, and the sounds of Diego punching him was a counterpoint. It was like being at a particularly intense party, only moreso. He could hear Diego panting, and there was a perverse sort of pleasure to that. He shuddered, and he let the whole experience sink into him like a stone in water. He was floating a bit to the left of himself, his body existing as a thing separate from his buzzing, screaming mind. The ghosts were silent, the cravings were gone. He was nothing but a body made of meat and nerves and electricity, being pummeled by some other body.

Diego’s breath was on the back of Klaus’s neck now, and the hits had stopped. When had that happened? Diego’s hands were on his hips, and his brother was just… standing there. Standing there, pressed up against Klaus, and Klaus was trembling.

“Klaus,” Diego said sharply, and Klaus had a feeling that this wasn’t the first time that Diego had called his name.

“Sorry, what?” Klaus was speaking directly into his arms, his voice muffled.

“How are you doin’?”

“Peachy keen,” Klaus said, and he gave an awkward thumbs up. “Peachy fuckin’ keen.”

“Your back is _really_ hot,” said Diego. “I could probably fry an egg on it.” He dug his thumb into a particularly tender spot, right through Klaus’s tank top, and Klaus hissed through his teeth.

“That happens when you get the blood flowing,” said Klaus, and he gave an awkward, wheezing sort of laugh. “You should see what happens when I get choked.”

“Is that an invitation?” Diego’s chest was pressed against Klaus’s back, the pressure of it like torture on the tenderized flesh.

Diego’s heart was racing, a steady thump-thump-thump even through all the cotton and skin and bone and fat separating the two of them. It was like they were just body parts, gnashing against each other. Like squishy, fleshy teeth.

“You are on another fucking planet,” Diego said, not unkindly. His thumbs pressed into the divots of Klaus’s hips, right over the waistband of his pants.

“If you choke me, I’ll go to the next _galaxy_ ,” Klaus said earnestly. “And probably come in my pants,” he added in a burst of endorphin-born honesty.

Diego snorted, a rush of hot air against Klaus’s ear. “You’re… something,” he said.

“What kind of something?” Klaus kept his forehead pressed into his arms, drinking in the sweet strain of his muscles.

Diego didn’t answer, but his big hand came around Klaus’s neck, the tips of his fingers rougher than the smooth leather of the palms. Klaus sagged back against Diego, as Diego began to squeeze.

Klaus’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his breath wheezed out of him like it was being pushed out of a bellows. He was shaking as Diego squeezed. The roaring in his ears was beginning ot get louder, the pressure behind his eyes building. His cock was getting harder in his pants - had been hard to begin with? He didn’t remember. He didn’t remember anything. He didn’t _need_ to remember anything. All he needed to do was hear his heart beat in his ears and let his eyes flutter closed.

Diego let go of Klaus’s throat, and Klaus took a deep, gasping breath. The rush of air was as good as having his dick sucked. His head was pulsing, and so was his dick, as incessant and as regular as a neon sign. Diego was wearing heavy denim jeans, but Klaus could feel how hard he was, grinding into Klaus’s ass.

“I guess Luther and Allison aren’t the only ones, huh?” Klaus’s voice came out as a rough croak, and he could _feel_ his voice making Diego’s hand vibrate.

Another snort, and Diego’s hand squeezed again, harder than before. “Luther couldn’t ever be this good,” he informed Klaus, and he sounded downright _smug_.

Klaus rolled his eyes. Even now, Diego was just being… Like That. “For fuck sake,” Klasu rasped.

Diego gave an especially firm squeeze, and then his teeth were digging into the meat of Klaus’s shoulder, and Klaus’s mouth fell open. There had to be some transitionary period - some point where Diego had shifted. He hadn’t gone from “standing there choking Klaus” to “biting Klaus” with no in between point. Klaus leaned back against Diego, and the analytical part of his brain (the last few vestiges he hadn’t fried with various illicit substances) were still wondering how Diego had gotten from point A to point B (for biting).

Klaus let himself be held, let himself float in that sweet, dark space where pain goes, held up by Diego’s teeth, Diego’s hand around his throat. He was being _kept_ , and he didn’t know how else to describe it, except that he was unable to do anything but be held there, be bitten and choked. He thrashed, and the strong grip around his throat tightened, then relaxed, just enough to give him a little sip of air, before it was cut off again. 

Diego let go of Klaus’s shoulder, and he kissed the bite mark, like a period at the end of a sentence. Diego’s forehead was up against Klaus’s temple, and then his lips brushed over Klaus’s cheek, a light brush. Klaus might not have even noticed, if he wasn’t so hyper aware of his own skin, his own _everything_. 

“Diego,” Klaus managed, wheezing, “I…”

“You gonna come like you said you would?” Diego’s voice was almost a growl, resonating through Diego’s chest, vibrating across Klaus’s skin. His breath was hot in Klaus’s ear, and it made Klaus break out into more goosebumps - more things, chain reactions as the molecules and cells and who knew what else that made him up knocked against each other. Diego let go of Klaus’s throat, and Klaus collapsed forward, panting.

“Fuck,” Klaus wheezed. Had he been close to coming?

Diego grabbed him by the back of the shirt, dragging Klaus down onto the mats, so that Klaus was lying flat on his back, staring up at Diego, his vision still faintly… spotty. The mats were cold against the overheated skin of his back, but the weight of his body was almost too much. The contrast of it - the new pain, the relief - left his head spinning.

“Let’s try something a little different,” said Diego. He was looking down at Klaus, with a slightly wild eyed expression. “So… you ever been kicked at those clubs of yours?”

“Can’t say that I have, no,” said Klaus.

“Wanna be?”

Klaus looked at Diego’s boots. They laced up, and they were probably steel toed. They’d probably turn him purple.

“Do it,” he said, and he was smirking.

“Not even afraid I’ll break something important?” Diego was already nudging at Klaus’s thigh with the toe of his boots.

“I could be sentimental and say that I trust you,” said Klaus, “but then you might have an actual emotion and have to go kick something to deal with it.”

“I don’t need to go anywhere to kick something,” Diego said. He drew his boot back, and he kicked Klaus in the meaty part of the thigh.

Klaus howled, then shoved his hand into his mouth. He bit down, and there was the idea of a _crunch_ , if not the actual sensation of it. Another kick, and Klaus let his legs fall open, riding the pain like a rollercoaster. He looked into Diego’s face, and he _liked_ what he saw. Was this what Diego looked like, under his domino mask, when he was off fighting crime?

Diego landed another hit, and it hurt, but the pain of it was transcendent. It was like being a martyr, only not, because he wasn’t dead, he was just _existing_ , and he would keep existing, drowning in pleasure and pain.

Klaus was biting his hand, and he was sobbing, as Kiego kicked him, again and again. It all _hurt_ , but the hurt was bigger than anything he could comprehend, was bigger than his puny form. Diego moved around him, kicking his thighs, his calves, always the meaty bits, the fatty bits. The parts of Klaus that could take the abuse.

Although all of Klaus could take the abuse.

“Hey, Diego,” said Klaus’s stupid fucking mouth, “stomp on me.”

Diego paused. “Stomp on you?”

“Yeah,” said Klaus. He rolled onto his side slowly, painfully. He grabbed a handful of his own ass - the sore muscles in his back and his legs complained at him, and oh _fuck_ was that good. He’d never been worked over this good before - he’d be feeling it for a week, hopefully. Then he flopped back, panting.

“You want me to _stamp_ on you?” Diego sounded incredulous.

“Oh yeah, baby,” said Klaus. “Like you’d put out a cigarette.” He didn’t really know where _that_ had come from, but Klaus wasn’t one to ignore an impulse.

“Why the fuck do you want me to do that?” Diego looked faintly nonplussed.

“Why would I want any of this?” Klaus shrugged, a complex maneuver when he was this sore, with so much of his abused back against the floor.

“Fair enough,” said Diego, and he pressed his boot into the meat of Klaus’s thigh and _ground_. The pain of it was deep, throbbing, like a wave. It _hurt_ , and the pain seemed to chase after him, like a dog worrying at a chew toy. He sank down, and he groaned up at the ceiling, his cock throbbing and trapped in his leather pants. It was sweet torture, to counterpoint the lovely nastiness of the pain beating through him.

Diego brought his boot down, and there was a moment where it stopped being sexy and just became kinda… goofy. Diego was on one foot, balancing precariously, like he was about to go overboard on some especially unpleasant insect. 

And then a fresh blast of pain, and Klaus went utterly limp, his mouth falling open as the pressure in his guts began to pull tighter. Diego's boots were coming down on the meaty parts of Klaus's legs like the hammer of some god, and Klaus was possibly going to come in his pants from it. He'd be embarrassed, if there was any room for it. The pain was mostly crowding it out. The pain was crowding _everything_ out, quieting the bullshit down and just leaving him as a body. That was all he needed to be.

"Roll over," Diego said, in that lovely voice of his, and he must have been flying high, if he was thinking about Diego's _voice_ that way, dear god.

"Huh?"

"Roll over," Diego repeated. "On your stomach."

"Why?"

"'cause I want to step on your ass," Diego said, as if that was just a thing to say. "Maybe your thighs, too."

"Sure," said Klaus. "Why don't you kick it a few times, for poetic... symmetry, or something." Was "poetic symmetry" a real term? Or was Klaus just so high on endorphins he couldn't think?

"I mean," said Diego, "if you're offering." He prodded Klaus in the side with the steel toe of his boot, and Klaus grunted and rolled onto his stomach. He sighed, as the steady throb went through him like he was lying on a speaker at a dance club, and he let his eyes drift shut, waiting for the pressure.

Was it painful? Was it comforting? Was it some mix of the two?

Diego kicked him, right where his ass met his thigh, and _fuck_ , but... fuck! It rattled him like change in a piggy bank, and he was probably jostling a bunch of shit loose, but if it hadn't been firmly anchored to begin with, it deserved to be rattled loose.

... Wow, but Klaus was a mess, if his thought process was going _that_ loopy.

Klaus made an undignified noise, pounding on the mats and swearing incoherently. Another kick, a stomp, a grind of a heel into Klaus's ass, and the pain was transcendent. It was like getting high, only completely different - he didn't know what was going on right now, just that he was feeling it, and that he wanted to _keep_ feeling it, as long as possible.

"I really want to hit your ass," said Diego, after who knew how many kicks, how many stomps. Maybe a million. Maybe four. Could Diego even sustain causing some kind of bodily injury to someone a million times? Or was Klaus's mind just racing in new, interesting ways? It was a bit like trying to think through something thick, sticky - marshmallow, maybe, or taffy?

"What do you think you've been doing, kissing it?" Klaus groaned, and he hadn't meant to say that - he wasn't sure what he _had_ meant to say, but he sure had said it.

"I mean," Diego said, not missing a beat, "I could do that too."

"Do whatever you want to my ass," said Klaus, deliriously stupid with pain and... who knew what else.

"I'm gonna take you up on that," said Diego, and one of his boots was on Klaus's back. Not kicking, not grinding, just... there. A solid weight, pinning Klaus to the mat like a bug to a card.

"Good to know," said Klaus, dazed.

Diego was on the ground now, his heavy hands on Klaus's ass. When had he gotten on the floor? Klaus must have missed an in between moment, like a cartoon with some of the frames cut out. Diego _punched_ Klaus, right on one of the spots still smarting from being kicked. It was another shockwave, and fuck, this was like being hit by Luther, minus the whole... Lutherness of it.

Klaus gasped, pushed forward on the mat, and he dug his knees into the floor to keep from being pushed further forward. "Where did you learn to hit like that?"

"I got sap gloves," Diego said cheerfully, and he punched Klaus's ass again. "Aren't they great?"

"You going after criminals with those things?"

"No," said Diego, and there was another hit. "They fuck up my balance when I throw my knives. I got 'em on a whim." Another punch, hard enough to rattle Klaus's eyes in their sockets.

"I didn't know you had whims," said Klaus. _Or a vocabulary big enough to use the word_ , some nasty part of Klaus's mind whispered. Although that was unkind. Diego was just as smart as the rest of them, albeit with more cumulative head trauma. Then again, with all the drug abuse, could Klaus really throw stones from his own glass house?

"I did this on a whim," said Diego. He was reaching under Klaus now, his hands going on Klaus's hips, then down, towards Klaus's fly. Klaus was holding his breath, not sure what he wanted, not sure what he didn't want, just aware that he needed to not ruin the moment with a joke or a smart ass comment.

Easier said than done. 

Diego yanked at the waist of Klaus’s pants, and he pulled them down. “I can not _believe_ you’re not wearing underwear,” he told Klaus. “Although I don’t know why I’m so surprised. You’re the most shameless person I know.” He slapped Klaus on the ass, and Klaus yelped.

It was a flashing sort of pain - different from the deep throb of the punching. Klaus made another embarrassing noise, squirming, and Diego landed another hit - louder than the punching, sharper, and it left Klaus thrashing on the floor, humping the floor like a teenager. His bare skin was already heating up - surface pain, to counterpoint the deep, throbbing muscle pain underneath.

“Maybe we would have been better kids if Dad spanked us,” Diego said, as if that was just a _thing_ you said while you spanked your brother, both of you with boners.

… The fact that this felt weirder than the superheroing probably said something about Klaus, but fucked if he knew what it was.

“I doubt it,” Klaus said, his voice rising and falling as Diego began to spank him, again and again. “If locking me up in a tomb isn’t going to cure me, I don’t know what will.”

“Cure you of what?” Another hit, right where Klaus’s ass met his thighs.

“Fucked if I know,” said Klaus. “I think that the filter between my mouth and my brain got knocked loose and now it’s all just pouring out like a firehose.”

“What, you normally have a filter?” Diego sounded faintly impressed in spite of himself.

“You’d be amazed at how much I _don’t_ say,” said Klaus.

“Evidently,” Diego said dryly, and then his hands were on the cheeks of Klaus’s ass in a final, definite slap, loud enough to make Klaus’s ears ring. Then they just… stayed there. Klaus shuddered, still so aware of every inch of his body, and every nerve ending firing off under his skin. Diego was spreading him _open_ , oh god, and why was Diego doing that? Diego would be able to see everything.

Klaus heard a spitting sound, and then there was wetness on his hole - he made a disgusted noise. “Did you just spit on me?!”

“Yep,” said Diego. “Don’t sound so shocked. It’s just spit.”

“You _spit_ on me! Why did you do that?!”

“Call it a whim,” said Diego, and he grabbed Klaus’s hips, forcing them up. Klaus’s face was in his arms, his ass in the air, and his hard cock was pointing up towards his chin. He was already starting to drip pre-come on the mat, and he would have been embarrassed if he had any shame to begin with. “You’ve been enjoying all my other whims so far.”

Klaus couldn’t really argue with that logic. He couldn’t argue with any logic, because there was so much pain - it was just _there_ , throbbing through him, filling his mind like radio static. And then Diego was manhandling him, forcing his hips up further, and there was hot, steamy breath across his ass. And then Diego’s _tongue_ was in his ass, Diego’s whole tongue, sliding in sweet and nasty.

_Good thing I had planned to get some tonight_ , Klaus thought dazedly, and then he thrashed, because Diego was thrusting with his tongue, his stubbly chin rubbing against Klaus’s perineum. He was fucking into Klaus’s ass, and his tongue was making wet, dirty noises that made Klaus’s toes curl.

Klaus was going to _die_. He was going to die with his brother’s tongue up his ass, and it would be so fucking perfect and also oh _fuck_ this was a lot. Between the pain and the probing wet heat of Diego’s tongue, Klaus couldn’t do much more than make vague noises and try to remember how to breathe. He was up on his elbows now, his forehead pressed into the mats, and he was humping back into Diego’s face, only half aware of the desperate, needy noises spilling out of him.

Diego’s stubble was rubbing him raw, and he was going to be tender. Where had Diego even learned to do that with his tongue? He’d always struck Klaus as a “missionary with the lights off” sort of dude, but here he was, making Klaus thrash like a landed fish. Klaus couldn’t keep track of Diego’s tongue, because Diego was _also_ clutching at his inner thighs, nails digging in, hard enough to bruise. Bruise on top of bruises. Just how beaten up would Klaus end up by the end of this? Diego’s drool was dripping down Klaus’s taint, towards his balls, and it was ticklish, cold. One more sensation to add to all the other ones.

Diego pulled his tongue out of Klaus’s ass, and he took a bite out of one cheek - an actual _bite_ , which made Klaus howl. It was all just pain. That was all he was - a receptacle for pain.

“I’m going to fuck your ass,” Diego said, although it was faintly muffled. Klaus heard a muffled thump nearby, and then Diego’s bare hands were touching him - Diego must have taken his gloves off.

“Are you, now?” Klaus tried to sound nonchalant, and not to gibber like some of the phantoms that showed up when he had some particularly bad hallucinogens.

“Oh yeah,” said Diego. “I’m gonna plow you like a field.” There was the sound of more spitting, and then there was as cold finger probing Klaus’s asshole.

“I didn’t know you were so agriculturally minded,” said Klaus, and he sighed, going boneless and limp as Diego’s finger pressed into him. _Do I tell him that I’ve got condoms and lube in the pocket of my coat, or do I continue to enjoy the spontaneity of this incestous tryst?_

Wow, but that was an elaborate thought for a time like this, especially when Diego’s second knuckle was pressing against his taint all over again, and Diego was shoving Klaus’s shirt up (down? It was down when Klaus was in this position, but it was also up because it was up Klaus’s torso, so…) and pressing wet, sloppy kisses along the ridges of Klaus’s spine. It really was fascinating, how some part of Klaus’s mind was keeping track of all of this even as Diego’s finger sank into him.

“I’ve got condoms,” Klaus said, and he spread his legs a little wider, as his cock bounced against his belly. He was grinding back into Diego’s hand, perversely aware of his sweat dripping off of his body, leaving little wet spots on the mats under him. “And lube.”

“What, like, in your bedroom?” Diego was pumping his finger in and out, his thumb pressing against Klaus’s perineum, his other thumb digging into the bite mark on Klaus’s ass.

“No. In my coat. The pockets of my coat, obviously not lining the… the lining.” Klaus made an incoherent noise, as Diego’s finger found his prostate and jabbed.

“That’s all the way over there,” Diego said, presumably making some hand gesture that Klaus missed, because his eyes were squeezed shut and his face was pressed into his arms.

“It’d be easier on… both of us, if you got ‘em,” said Klaus.

Diego’s finger paused. “Do you want me to?” He sounded genuinely unsure.

“I wouldn’t say no to some lube,” Klaus said. “Condoms I can take or leave.”

“Don’t move,” said Diego, and he removed his finger, and was gone. Klaus would have looked over his shoulder, but… moving. Moving took a bit too much concentration, when the muscles of his legs were shaking, and the pain still beat at him like the waves on the ocean. He just inhabited his body for a little while, as he heard Diego rustling around his coat. Diego’s big stompy boots were loud, even on the mats.

Klaus drifted, in that sweet place beyond pain, and then Diego was moving between his thighs, yanking Klaus’s leather pants down and off. Then Diego’s hands were on his ass again, spreading him open, and then one was gone, and there was a click - the cap opening?

“I’m going to fuck you,” Diego said roughly, and... oh my. Something blunt and hot and wet was dragging across Klaus’s thigh, and when had Diego unzipped? Klaus felt like he’d have caught that, at some point, his ears were pretty fine tuned, weren’t they? Although then again, they were _also_ full of the sound of his heart in his ears, and the way his own breath was being forced out of him in this awkward position. He shuddered, as the head of Diego’s cock pressed against his hole, and it was slick, the lube on it cold, the skin underneath hot.

“You already said that,” Klaus pointed out, not the most helpful comment in the world.

“Yeah, well,” said Diego, and he held her ass open with one hand, guiding his cock forward. “They can’t all be winners.” He grunted as the thick head of his cock pushed forward.

Klaus gasped, and he shuddered at the shock of it - Diego’s cock was thicker than one would think, not that Klaus had done much thinking about Diego’s cock. Not any more than he’d thought of anyone else’s cock, which was to say, at least a little bit. But it was stretching him open as Diego pushed his hips forward, his dick thick and hot as it slid in, inch by inch. He clenched around it, and Diego shuddered, halfway in. His hands went to Klaus’s hips, holding on to them, and he was digging his thumbs into the divots of Klaus’s hips.

“You’re tight,” Diego said thickly, and he grabbed Klaus’s bruised, tender ass, spreading it open, presumably watching his dick sink into it. “God, I can see my boot prints. You’re already turning purple.”

“Whose… whose fault is that?” Klaus’s voice broke, and he groaned, his arms still trembling. Diego’s fingers were digging into the bruises - he seemed to be stopping to prod one, then another, or another. Little rootlets of pain, joining the mess of pain and pleasure that was setting Klaus’s skin on fire, the tension ratcheting tighter and tighter at the base of his gut.

“Possibly yours,” said Diego, and he let go of Klaus’s ass to grab Klaus’s hips, pulling Klaus’s ass snug against him. He used the new grip to begin to thrust, his cock jabbing deep inside of Klaus, making Klaus shudder, still trembling. Diego’s cock was _deep_ \- deep enough that it felt like it might be coming out of his mouth, practically. The length of it was passing along his prostate, little teasing nudges that had his cock drooling more pre-come up towards his chest, dripping onto his shirt.

“How is you bruising me up… my fault?” Klaus arched his back, and he bore down on Diego, his fingers buried in his own hair now, yanking on it, twisting it around his fingers. More pain - he was going to be so overstimulated by the time this was all over he might actually _die_ , but he could live with that.

Wait.

“You asked me to,” said Diego, and he was pulling Klaus against him now, and the sounds of their bodies slapping together was loud, but weirdly familiar - how many fights had happened in here? How many times had bodies slammed together in this same room? How many times had they done something like this, except… not?

How high on endorphins was Klaus, if he was ruminating like this?

Klaus sobbed as he was forced forward, and then Diego was pressing against him, Diego’s heavy chest digging into his sore back, pinning him down. Diego’s hand was coming around, a big hand spread out over Klaus’s belly, then lower, to wrap around his cock. Diego was stroking him, and that took a second to register, because all the pain receptors were going off, and he was just… here. It was better than a beating at a club, better than being furtively bent over a sink at a place that technically didn’t allow sex. He let himself be manhandled, let the pleasure be wrung out of him with the same hands that had given him so much pain. He sobbed his way through it, humping and panting, covered in sweat. He was disgusting right now - sweat, pre-come, spit; the only thing missing was blood.

“Bite me,” he told Diego, then again. “Bite me. Bite me, please, bite me, please, fuck, _bite_ me!”

Diego’s hot breath was on Klaus’s neck, and then Diego’s blunt teeth were digging into Klaus’s shoulder, right in the middle of a punch bruise, and Klaus went completely limp. His was being fucked, he was tenderized like a goddamn steak, and Diego was biting him hard enough that it was verging into the unpleasant sort of painful - the only thing keeping him upright was the fact that if he didn’t want Diego to stop stroking his cock, and possibly his knees were stuck like this, which he didn’t know how to stop. Maybe he’d be stuck like this for the rest of time.

Time just kept… happening around them, as Diego fucked him into the mats, leaving more bruising, sucking bites along Klaus’s shoulders, Klaus’s neck. Klaus was going to be nothing but bruises by the end of this. He couldn’t wait to find out. He wanted to stay in this place - this place, of pain, of pleasure, of who even knew what else was filling him up and filling him up, leaving him an empty vessel. There weren’t any ghosts, no desperate cravings for who knew what illicit substances - it was just _him_. He was here, in a body, with Diego, and that was all he was going to be.

Then Diego did something clever with his fingers, alternating the grip of his hands, and he ran the tip of his tongue along the shell of Klaus’s ear, and he whispered some little bit of tenderness - little drops of sweetness trickling into Klaus’s brain, and that was the thing that set him off. A whispered sweet word, and he was going off like a firecracker, the pressure at the base of his spine breaking like a plate, the sweet pleasure spreading through, his cock spitting come across his stomach (and… into his shirt, but whatever), his ass clutching Diego’s cock, his toes curling, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.

“God,” Diego said, and he was kissing along Klaus’s neck. “God, _fuck_ , you come so good, I’m gonna… come in you, Klaus, fuck, you’re so hot, I can feel where you’re… I can… I…” His hips sped up, losing their rhythm, and then he was all the way inside, his cock pulsing like Klaus’s back, and it was all blood in the end, wasn’t it? Blood rushing through bodies, making nerve endings do what they were supposed to do, beating through Klaus’s whole body, through Diego’s, and the both of them… 

“We’re made of blood,” Klaus said dazedly, and then he collapsed forward, his own come smearing across his groin and his thighs.

Diego snorted, a hot blast of air against Klaus’s neck, and Klaus winced. “You are _so_ high right now,” he said, his tone affectionate.

“Yep,” Klaus said. “Brain high, man.”

“Brain high,” Diego echoed.

“From… chemicals. Brain chemicals.” Klaus squirmed, and he made a face as Diego pulled out of him carefully, come beginning to leak out of him. “I am leaking jizz from both ends.”

“Wouldn’t that be what happened if I came in your _mouth_?” Diego flopped onto the mats next to Klaus, and then he winced. “Dude. I did a number on you.”

“The front end and the back end are both ends,” said Klaus.

“The front end is the mouth,” said Diego. One of his fingers traced along the curve of Klaus’s ass, dipping into the wetness of his own come, spreading it along Klaus’s thighs. 

“No, the front end is the end you present to the world,” said Klaus, and he smiled dopily. He was going to drop like a stone in, like… three hours, but for now, this was pretty good.

“So I’m thinking I’m gonna follow some more whims,” Diego said, and there was… something complicated under that. Something that Klaus would probably have to dig into, but there was a time and a place for that kind of thing. This wasn’t it.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Klaus said, and he yawned. “Keep me in mind with your next… whim following.”

“That sure was a sentence,” Diego teased, and he dug a finger into one of the bite marks on Klaus’s neck.

“And you know it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks for my beloved beta. <3


End file.
